When she had written the list with Maggie, Daisy had thought that she would never be able to do any of it. But now that she was here, seeing Maura had been so easy, and to think she had thought it would be the worst.
‘Get the hardest things out of the way first,’ Maggie had said. ‘The rest will be straightforward then and nothing to be frightened of.’
Maggie had been right.
Now, Maura and Daisy were both crying.
‘But, Maura, there’s more, there’s more I have to say.’
Maura sat back slightly. She realized this was big for Daisy. She could see a battle raging somewhere inside her and that what she had said had not been easy for her.
Maura picked up Daisy’s cup and handed it to her.
‘Here, drink some tea,’ she said. ‘It will help calm your nerves. Shall I get us a couple of Anadin?’
Daisy shook her head and sipped the tea. Maura was right. She felt calmer now. Tea cured all ills.
Maura stood and dropped the catch on the back door. It was a thing she had never done before in all the time she had lived on the four streets, but intuition told her that the last thing she needed today was Peggy barging in.
Maura sat down again, closer to Daisy who, in preparation for her most crucial words, placed her cup and saucer on the floor near her feet. She leant back and took a deep breath. For a second, she heard Maggie’s voice.
‘Just say it out loud, Daisy, you only have to say it once and then it’s done.’
Daisy looked Maura straight in the eye. ‘Maura, I also saw what happened on the night the father was murdered. I saw how it happened, from the upstairs window in the Priory.’
Maura felt the room spin. Her foundations were moving, as if a chasm were about to open. She had been clinging onto the edge of a precipice for so long, waiting for something unknown to tip her off, and now here it was. It was Daisy.
She grasped the wooden arm of the chair tightly. She was teetering on the edge of her own sanity and she needed to hold on. She had to brace herself for whatever it was Daisy was about to say. Maura couldn’t look. She couldn’t see Daisy when she spoke the words that would condemn her husband to death.
‘Oh God,’ she gasped, putting her free hand to her mouth.
‘No, don’t worry,’ said Daisy, placing her hand on Maura’s. ‘That is why I am here. I am sorry, I told the police once, but they didn’t believe me. They thought I was simple and do you know, I was. I was so upset at what was happening to me. The awful secret I had to keep, it made me simple. That’s what Maggie says anyway and I think she is right, because I can see everything so much clearer now. Thank God they didn’t believe me. I only did it, I told them, because Molly said I had to. Molly is dead now and I am not simple, but I am the only one who saw it happen. I am the only one who knows and it is the thing Maggie said I had to keep a secret and never speak of it again, except to you, to put your mind at ease. That’s what Maggie said.’
‘Maggie?’ said Maura. ‘Who the hell is Maggie?’ Maura almost screamed the question.
‘She is the lady who looked after me and helped me back to Liverpool. She taught me to speak properly. And she helped me to escape and get to the police and told me everything I had to do and say.’
‘What did you see, Daisy?’ Maura asked, almost in a whisper. ‘Did you see Tommy and Jerry and what they did?’
‘Me, I didn’t see nothing, Maura. Maggie said that, once I told you, I was never to speak about it again and that I had to forget what I had seen. She said you had suffered enough, that we all have, and that the priest got everything he deserved, and that she would have done the very same.’ Maura laughed and cried at the same time as she hugged Daisy. The two of them wiped their eyes. Maura poured more tea and, sitting next to Daisy and placing her hand back in hers, she asked, ‘Did you know what happened to Kitty, Daisy?’
For the following hour, Maura sat with her arm round Daisy’s shoulders as she told her Kitty’s story. Simple Daisy, the first woman apart from Kathleen that Maura had talked to about Kitty. It felt good to talk to Daisy. She had shared Kitty’s nightmare. She would understand. Maura cried as she spoke and, at times, her words battled with her sobs to be heard. But nothing could stop the outpouring of emotion Maura felt as she sat, side by side in front of the range fire, with Daisy.
Daisy knew at first hand the evil which Kitty had known. They were now sisters. Blood sisters.
Maura had been so engrossed in talking to Daisy about Kitty that she hadn’t heard Harry and Little Paddy on the stairs, nor noticed that they had halted their descent. Having heard voices in the kitchen, they were sitting on the bottom step behind the door.
She usually did hear the children. Since Kitty had died, Little Paddy often stopped over for the night, as he and Scamp were great at dispelling the gloom and lightening the atmosphere. Like all Maura’s children, Little Paddy was convinced she could see through wooden doors.
Neither of the boys moved a muscle while they listened to every word. Harry’s own tears fell softly as he heard his mother speak about his beloved Kitty, something Tommy had told him he was not allowed to do in front of Maura, for fear of upsetting her. He cried for Daisy too. But boys weren’t allowed to cry.
Just as Little Paddy put his arm round Harry’s shoulders, they heard Malachi dive out of bed, yelling, ‘Mam, I’m starving.’
Harry quickly dried his eyes. Little Paddy held out his little finger. Harry held out his and hooked it through Paddy’s and their hands shook.
‘Secret forever,’ whispered Little Paddy. Harry nodded in response. Both boys jumped up and, stamping on the stairs to announce their arrival, they noisily entered the kitchen just as Scamp began to bark at the back door.
12
WHEN BEN MANNING arrived at the Priory, it was a hive of activity. He took the letter from the inside pocket of his jacket and reread it carefully, checking the name of the person he was supposed to be meeting.
‘Here is a very charming letter,’ his secretary had said. ‘Well written too. Miss Harriet Lamb, she’s obviously had a proper education. Look at that punctuation. I bet she’s about ninety. This is a woman who knows how to get her way. Little old ladies can be very disarming, Mr Manning. Be on your guard when you meet her on Monday morning.’
Ben had smiled. It would take more than a little old lady with beautiful diction to make him agree to the library being run by the local church.
As Ben stood at the Priory gates and glanced over at the churchyard where, he knew, the murdered priest had been found, he once again checked the address at the top of the letter. He was at the correct Priory, and the name on the bottom was Miss Harriet Lamb. He scanned the people arriving who were also attending the meeting, searching for a woman with a kindly face. He had already imagined Miss Harriet Lamb.
He half expected her to look like every Irish matron in Liverpool: rotund, wearing a headscarf and a black skirt.
When the door was opened by a young woman in a floral dress, with long dark curls, smiling the broadest smile, he fully expected her to direct him to a room in the Priory where Miss Lamb and her committee would be waiting for him.
‘Hello,’ the young woman said in a beautiful voice. ‘I’m Harriet Lamb. Are you Mr Manning from the City Corporation?’
For a moment, Ben couldn’t speak.
‘I am sorry to be so presumptuous,’ she almost sang. ‘It is just that, obviously, it is a very tight community around here and, if you don’t mind me saying so, a man who knocks on the Priory door in such a smart overcoat sticks out like a sore thumb. And besides, we are expecting you.’ She laughed.
He had no idea what she had just said. He was only aware of her lips moving and had no idea what to say in response.
The woman stopped laughing, but her smile remained. Ben noticed that she never once looked down at his leg, unlike almost every other person he had met, since the day he had been discharged from the army.
‘Hello in there,’ she said, laughi
ng and pretending to look into and behind his eyes.
Ben spluttered and blurted out, ‘I am so dreadfully sorry, but I was expecting someone older.’
The young woman laughed again.
‘But your accent?’ Ben knew he was being incredibly clumsy but seemed unable to stop himself.
‘Ah, yes, well, it may surprise you to know, Mr Manning, I was educated in Dublin and my father was a doctor. We don’t all speak the same, you know. And, if you don’t mind me saying so, I have met many people in Liverpool who don’t speak with a strong accent.’
Ben blushed, profoundly embarrassed.
Harriett smiled. She had already realized that Mr Manning would be a pushover and that she was halfway to achieving every outcome she wanted from the meeting. She’d had no idea that it would be quite that easy or that the man from the Liverpool Corporation would be so gentle.
‘I have to apologize for asking you to come to the Priory. It is just that there are so many of us and your secretary thought it might be better if you came here. Also, I thought that if you did so, you could see the committee in action. I know there was a great deal in the press regarding an unfortunate incident that took place here last year, but I wanted you to see that that is all behind us now. The church is a happy church and the people involved are committed to this community.
‘Now, come, Mr Manning, come and meet my brother, Father Anthony, and Sister Evangelista, and my friend who is a teacher at the school, Alison, who was only married on Saturday and should be on her honeymoon now, but that’s a different story. You will like them all, I promise you.’
Ben fell in line beside Harriet, unaware that she was deliberately walking more slowly than usual. She had seen the caliper without his having been aware.
Ben, who was painfully shy around women at the best of times, had lost his tongue completely.
‘And here is everyone,’ she said, leading him to the study where her brother sat behind the desk.
Amid the clatter of chinking china and teaspoons in sugar bowls, Harriet introduced Ben to the people sitting around, beginning with Father Anthony and finishing with Nana Kathleen.
Ben knew nothing whatsoever about the church or its ways. He felt uncomfortable, as though, whatever he said, he would surely put his foot straight in his mouth and show his ignorance.
‘Now then,’ Harriet said, having introduced everyone, ‘I have written to Mr Manning to explain to him that we are delighted that a children’s nursery is to be built on the bombed-out wasteland, and the library too. I have explained that we also understand that it is for the benefit of the people living in the tin houses, which, Mr Manning, I know are the prefabs, but everyone around here refers to them as the tin houses. However, as the convent plays such a huge role in the community, including running the school, I am sure Mr Manning agrees with me that there must be ways we can work together to a mutual benefit.’
An hour and a half later, Benjamin Manning made his way back to the bus stop. He had never before spent such a happy time in the company of others.
They were such joyful people. And Harriet Lamb, surely such a beautiful woman could not be single? He smiled ruefully to himself. Miss Lamb. He had granted her every concession she had asked for. He had nothing in his briefcase that could defend him against those bright blue eyes and her lovely smile. All the way home on the bus, he relived every moment, every gesture. He closed his eyes and summoned the sound of her voice.
Benjamin felt sad that his injuries would prevent him from asking Miss Lamb to have tea with him at the Lyons Corner House one afternoon. From living a normal life as most men did. From having a wife. He knew he had to banish her from his mind. A woman as lovely as she was would be ashamed to be seen walking down the road with a man wearing a caliper. Harriet Lamb did not need a cripple on her arm when she could do so much better.
As he looked out of the window on the journey home, he did not see the river, the sprawling warehouses or the ships, waiting patiently at the bar. As the bus turned up the hill into Edge Lane, the familiar terraced houses and the children playing in the streets were just a blur. He was somewhere else, in an imagined life. One he had never dared to visit since the day he was wounded. He could hear the voice of another, one that did not belong to his mother, calling him to breakfast. A voice he had heard for the first time just a few short hours ago.
He did not notice the solitary tear of loneliness that ran down his cheek.
When everyone had left the Priory and only Father Anthony and Harriet remained, she was unusually quiet.
‘Has the cat got your tongue?’ asked Anthony.
‘Don’t talk about cats and body parts,’ said Harriet and tapped him on the arm.
‘Heavens, I forgot,’ said Anthony, shuddering.
The murdered priest’s body had been discovered, just as Molly Barrett’s cat had walked into the street, carrying his langer in its mouth. This was now a source of secret jokes amongst the children on the four streets and the subject of not so secret ribaldry down in the Anchor pub.
‘I was just turning over in my mind, who else we should ask to be on the committee for the nursery.’
‘May I make a suggestion?’ said Anthony. ‘Ask Maura Doherty. That woman needs something to occupy her mind. I think that she could benefit from focusing on anything other than the loss of her daughter. It might just be the thing to bring her out of herself and to help her heal. I feel sorry for the twin lads. Little Harry and Malachi always look a bit lost. I know Declan and Kevin are a different pair altogether, but if something doesn’t give to restore a bit of happiness into that home, I can see those two going off the rails before long. Declan runs riot at the school and I know Sister Evangelista is loath to say anything to Maura and Tommy because of all their troubles.’
‘Would you like me to have a word, Anthony?’
Harriet loved the Dohertys. The hours she had passed helping to heal Nellie Deane had brought her close to the families affected by Kitty’s death. She had spent a great deal of time with Maura when she helped the neighbours to look after Maura and Tommy.
Harriet and Anthony had never met Kitty, but they had heard enough from Sister Evangelista to know that there was something they weren’t being told. But that didn’t matter. They were here to minister and to love their neighbours and that was what they would do. Harriet might not have been holy, but she was good.
‘I don’t know, Harriet. Maybe you could have a gentle word about the twins at the same time as you ask her to help?’
Harriet smiled. ‘I will find a way. Come here and give me a hug.’
Benjamin Manning came unbidden into Harriet’s mind again.
‘What are you thinking of, Harriet? You surely aren’t this pensive about a nursery committee?’
Sometimes Harriet thought Anthony could read her mind. ‘Well, I was just thinking what a nice man Mr Manning was.’
She blushed.
‘And what a pity we hadn’t met years ago. Useless thoughts, as no man as handsome as he is would want to date a woman my age, so never fear, they were just idle imaginings.’
‘Brought on by Alison’s wedding on Saturday, no doubt,’ said Anthony, looking at his sister with great care.
They told each other everything. They were the closest of siblings, and had been made even more so by the recent loss of both their parents. They were also bound by the fact that it was silently understood, Harriet as a spinster would remain with Anthony. He felt guilty that his sister had spent the best years of her life nursing first his father and then his mother, whilst he had been away at the seminary.
He felt guilty that she had sacrificed her life. He wanted to do all that he could for her. That was why he was determined to take his sister with him in the role of housekeeper. He could not leave her alone in Dublin in their parents’ big house. Anthony was the first priest ever at St Mary’s to have a housekeeper as well as a full-time cleaner, but he didn’t care. Where he went, his sister would go too.
&
nbsp; ‘I suppose thirty-five is rather late,’ Anthony replied. ‘But you never know.’
A modern priest in the city of the Beatles, Anthony was trying to be helpful, but he realized it wasn’t working.
He sat down at his desk to work, and Harriet went into the kitchen to make their tea. As she filled the kettle, Harriet felt a pain stab her in the chest.
She thought of how happy Alison Devlin had been at her wedding. Alison was also old to be getting married. She had complained about it often enough, even confiding that she thought she might be too old to have children. Was it so impossible for someone Harriet’s age to find a husband?
As she stood over the sink, her tears fell and not for the first time. They were hot tears of loss and frustration for the life she knew she could never have, that of a wife and a mother.
Even as she cried, she knew it wasn’t just because of the wedding on Saturday. It had something to do with that lovely shy man, with the kind eyes and the caliper, which she could see hurt him as he walked. The gentle man who was softly spoken and nervous, and who had told Sister Evangelista he wasn’t married.
She looked down and smiled as Scamp licked her feet. At that moment, they heard Little Paddy and Harry banging on the back door.
‘Well, look who’s here? The boys to take you on your walk, little fella.’
And within seconds, the kitchen was filled with boys and dogs and the noise that Harriet wished had always been a part of her life.
13
STANLEY WAS TOO afraid to switch on the lights.
The back door had opened, with difficulty and a loud creak, into the kitchen where they had held their crisis meeting after the priest had been murdered. Stanley remembered the men who had sat round the table on that night. Most of them he didn’t know, but there were some that he had recognized.
Austin had told Stanley that the key to survival was anonymity. If no one knew who each other was, no one could tell anyone anything.
The Ballymara Road Page 18
